


Let's Make a Latte

by Squeegee_Beckenheim



Series: A One Shot a Month [8]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, based off that video where michael jones makes a coffee and also a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:10:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeegee_Beckenheim/pseuds/Squeegee_Beckenheim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 8:12 in the morning and Frank's going to make some coffee, bitches!</p><p>(Based off the LtMkilla video with the same name)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Make a Latte

**Author's Note:**

> video found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P9WeiyeCMUM)
> 
> sorry this months fic isn't as good but i haven't had time to write

Frank Iero stood in the kitchen of his cramped apartment, his camera phone poised in his hand just in front of the small digital display on the side of his microwave, which read twelve minutes past eight. He took a deep breath and pressed his thumb against the record button with as much force as he could muster at that early hour without caffeine.

“So it’s eight-twelve in the morning and it’s time to make some coffee, bitches!” Frank informed his so far, non-existent audience, turning the phone to face the shiny black coffee maker on the bench beside him. 

“’Cept we ain’t making coffee, we’re make- ah I missed the thing,” he grumbled as his phone displayed that he was filming the side of the machine instead of the lid, where once he moved his wrist slightly, the camera display showed the words ‘café latte’ in blurry white writing on the machines black finish.

“We’re making fucking lattes! Café lattes you say!” Frank spoke in a hushed whisper, zooming even closer on the lid, which was still out of focus on the camera display.

“Wait, focus! Focus! Tease it! Oh, nope, eep, ooooh… TEASED!” Frank yelled as he fiddled with the zoom until the writing became clear. He stopped the recording, retrieving the pot of grounded coffee and coffee filter from the cupboard above his head, standing on tip toes to reach. Once he had placed them on the counter top, he picked up his phone again and resumed recording.

“Got some Folgers _Gourmet Supreme!_ Sparing no expense for you, right here,” Frank explained, zooming in on the bright coffee container, before picking it up with his free hand.

“Now, fucking, it’s very important, it has to be exactly precise how much coffee you are going to pour in. So get a spoon, and do that,” he instructed as he proceeded to shake out a pile of coffee into the filter without any sort of measurement or precision, “Now you’ve done it. Good job.”

Frank killed the capture again before shoving the filter, now heavy with the dark powder into the top of the coffee machine, picking up his camera phone again and zooming in close on the filter.

“Ugh, look at it, just fucking tight. Uugh, just squeeze in there,” Frank growled huskily before shaking the camera phone and making obscene noises, “Oh, it fit. It fit. Oh, it’s in.” 

He paused the video again to fill up the clear measuring cup with water and pour the required amount into the machine before placing the still half full cup beside the machine, ready to record again.

“I poured the water in there. You didn’t see me do it, but I poured it in there. It’s _in.”_ Frank added, stopping the feed once more to close the machine and take a step back.

“Okay, so now you’re like ‘Wow, you’re done, Frank, right? That’s how you make coffee.’ But _WAIT INTERNET!_ There is _one more step!”_ Frank practically screamed into his phone, holding his finger in front of the camera to show the maximum of about two people who would probably watch his shitty video once he had uploaded it to YouTube, _exactly_ how many more steps there were. You know, just in case they hadn’t heard him yelling it. 

He turned around and opened his fridge behind him, cutting his video feed whilst retrieving a large gallon bottle of milk before smacking it down on the bench.

“Dude, milk? No shit. That always goes in coffee, unless you’re a fucking terrorist and don’t use milk. But, this time, here’s the difference. It doesn’t go in after, kids. No, it goes in before, during, while, after. I… there is nothing else after that. There’s just three, there’s only three times. It’s past, present and future. I can’t make a joke beyond that. There’s no fourth time. I’m sorry!” Frank rambled on into his phone as he poured the milk into the glass pot from the machine, the camera capturing a flash of coloured tattoos on his arm as he leaned over to pick up the milk bottle. Once he had finished, he put the black lid on the pot and pushed it into the machine.

“So, fucking plop that in there. Pop it in, I said _pluuu,_ but I meant pop it. Put it in there, everything’s done. It’s on latte, hit the button. Ready? _Are you ready?”_ Frank shouted, zooming in as he pressed the large black button on the machine to set the coffee maker going.

“Oh my god, look at it go,” he whispered as the machine came to life, a silver rod whirring around in circles, stirring the milk into froth. He laughed excitedly, sounding kind of exactly like a 5 year old and turned the phone to capture the childish, gleeful expression on this face, almost hidden under a black mop of hair. 

“OH MY GOD, LOOKATITGO! Wooooooow! Dude, look at that. Okay, alright. So now, you see, we’ve begun the process,” Frank giggled excitedly before dropping his voice to a low whisper as he turned the machine with his free hand to capture a better view of the coffee maker in action.

“Hang on, let’s get a fucking profile shot. Profile, fucking, SHOW ME DAT ASS! SHOW ME DAT FLANK!” Frank began to yell again, leaning in close to the humming coffee maker.

“Zoom in, zoom in. Now soon, the delicious coffee will drip, like, AH! Almost like pee-pee, and it slowly pee-pees into the milk. Oh, I see tinkles! We see tinkles, we see tinkles, we see tinkles, we see tinkles!” Frank commentated as the rich brown liquid started to drip slowly from the machine into the pot of churning milk below, leaving light brown swirls in the white foam.

He cut the camera again as the coffee continued to gradually combine with the milk until the liquid in the pot was a beautiful light brown. Frank zoomed in on the liquid and the small white writing on the base of the machine that read ‘Mr. Coffee’.

“ _Hey mister! Hey mister! You making some coffee, mister? I need some coffee! I wants some coffee, mister!”_ He squeaked in an irritatingly high pitch for that hour of the morning, putting on his best and most ridiculous voice.

“Fucking drinking some lats? Huh?” Frank yelled, his unfocused camera recording the top of the machine before panning down at a sickening speed.

“Oh, it’s done. It’s done! It’s almost done, it’s almost done, _it’s almost done, it’s almost done, it’samlostdone!_ Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!” Frank repeated with excitement, flailing his phone back and forth from the coffee maker to his over enthusiastic face as he watch the coffee machine start to run down.

“Alright, so, the coffee has been teased into the pitcher, pot, cup, mug, thing, that,” Frank continued, pointing to the coffee pot which was now full with the whirling brown mixture.

“Mr. Coffee is now putting his final touches on the blend. You can hear him, hard at work, whirring away. We can already see the buildup of froth here, separating the coffee from the froth, as it should be separated. I am all for segregation of coffee and froth. Keep that shit separate,” Frank rambled as he pointed to the thin layer of white foam capping the rich brown coffee underneath, still swirling around the pot.

“Here we go, I can sense it,” he whispered as the coffee machine suddenly click and the latte mixture slowed to a standstill, a perfect half and half between the dark coffee on the bottom and the light froth atop of it.

“Oh, shh. Oh my god! I sensed it! There it is, there it is! Look at the separation, look at the froth! That’s like a solid fifty-fifty split. Maybe even fifty five-fourty. Fifty five going to the froth. Let’s fucking pour this bitch!”

Frank killed the cam to pick up the now quite heavy pot of coffee and hold it over his cup, capturing on film as he poured in the latte, spilling some down the side of his mug where it created a light brown pool on the dark bench top. 

“Look at that. Looook at that. Fuckin- oh, hmm, look at that… look at that. That’s what happens when you hold the camera. Oh, cut! Edit!” Frank hollered, pausing the video to pick up the glass container of sugar, not bothering to clean up the mess. He shook some sweetener in whilst making strange noises before turning his attention and his phone to the pot of froth beside the machine, taking the top off of the pot and waving the stirring rod covered in foam in front of his camera.

“Okay, here we go. Here we go. Take this out. Look at the froth! Ugh, it’s waiting for you! I’m so excited! Some people may call it foam. It’s not, it’s froth,” Frank rushed out joyfully as he retrieved a spoon from the cutlery drawer and began to scoop spoonful’s of foam into his mug.

“Spoonful of froth, spoonful of froth. I’m fucking dropping loads, I’m dropping fucking loads of froth! Oh my god! Yes! Look at this, okay? Okay. So, now you mix it up!” Frank moaned whilst heavily breathing, stirring his coffee so hard it spilled over the sides slightly, making even more of a mess on the bench beside his cup.

“It’s going to be so GOOD! I spent so much time making this. Oh god, ooooh god, it’s going to be so good! And there you go, you have a perfect latte that I am now going to fucking enjoy!” Frank breathed happily, placing down his spoon on the coffee stained counter and picking up his mug, the outside smudged with spilt coffee and the contents bubbly from being stirred too vigorously. 

Just as he raised the mug off the counter, holding it in front of the camera to show the imaginary viewing audience, a mumbled groan was heard from behind camera.

“What?” Frank asked, turning the camera to show a very sleepy looking Gerard Way standing behind Frank, his head was a birds nest of bed hair and his eyes were barely open as he squinted at Frank in the light of the kitchen.

“Can I have your coffee please,” Gerard slurred, his voice hoarse from sleep and muffled by his hands which he had placed on his cheeks as if they were the only things holding his head up right.

“Oh, there you go,” Frank said, his voice deflated and low as he handed over his precious mug of carefully prepared latte.

“Yes, thank you. It’s like, seven fourty-five,” Gerard whispered, cradling the mug in his hands before turning, his baggy pajama shirt and trousers making him look small as he shuffled away.

“But… that was my coffee,” Frank breathed, turning his camera to show the clock on the microwave which now read 8:25, before ending the recording for good.

That was his coffee! Frank really needs to stop letting his adorable sleepy boyfriend rob him of his hard deserved coffee. Fucking Gerard... Well, it's time to make another one, Frank guessed.

 


End file.
